“He’ll be fine,” said the cop at last, and Mack’s weary conscience leaped to believe him. “You folks lock up tight now. We’ll put out an APB on the sausage dog, so call us if it turns up.”
“He,” said Hailey. “Gulliver is ahe.”
* * *
Hailey was still outside when the twenty-four-hour locksmith had finished with the downstairs windows and doors. She’d given up walking around calling Gulliver’s name, and once Mack had coaxed the exhausted, hysterical girls to bed, he took her out a hot chocolate and sat down next to her on the front step. Underneath them, he knew, was a memento from one of the last days of construction before they moved into the house: four handprints and one pawprint, set into the cement with the date. Mabel had drawn a crooked heart around their offering, and then Simeon (blech) had laid a solid concrete slab on top, to finish off the step. Even Mack had felt a touch of excitement then, to be there at the beginning of something as significant and permanent as a whole house, though he would never have admitted it to Hailey.
“You’re going to end up with hypothermia because of that dumb dog,” he told her. He glanced over and saw that her eyes were red, and tiny ice crystals had formed on her lashes. “Oh, LeeLee, come on now.”
He hadn’t called her that in years; it must have been the sight of her tears that fired up some long-sleeping brain cell. She started to cry for real, her gasps heaving little puffs of frost in the air that twinkled in the porch light. Mack grew desperate for something to say. “He’ll find his way back—”
“Remember when we got him?”
How could Mack forget? Gulliver had been an impulse purchase at a pet store in Akron, a gift for Hailey—an early Christmas gift, actually. He’d cost Mack $800 at a time when $800 was more than his monthly rent, and Gulliver had repaid this rescue from a life of cramped conditions in piss-soaked newspapers by pooping in Hailey’s lap on the way home, and then with over a decade of urine-sodden shoes and bed pillows and hardwood floors. Mack was going to have to dig pretty deep to miss him.
“If he’s out here somewhere, he might freeze to death,” Hailey sobbed. “He’s so old and—”
“His fur will keep him warm.” Mack thought of the places on Gulliver’s chest and belly where the hair came together from opposite directions, like the seams on a teddy bear. He thought of Gulliver’s ridiculous wiry gray eyebrows, and how he liked to play hockey with a crushed-up Dr Pepper can.
“Gulliver!” he shouted, and at the same time, he reached for Hailey’s hand. He was surprised to feel the weight of her head against his shoulder, and without meaning to, he inhaled the warm, familiar scent of her hair.
“Would someone really take him? Hurt him?”
Mack had no answer for her, but he laid his cheek against her head, and she let him. He felt her press closer, and after a minute he closed his eyes and tried to work up the courage to kiss her. She would probably push him away. She might even scream at him for trying this now, but something told him that equally, she might not...
There was a crunch, boots on snow, and Mack’s eyes flew open. Betsy Wakefield was crossing the strip of snowy grass between her driveway and theirs, and, thrust awkwardly out in front of her, stubby legs flapping in the air like fish fins, was Gulliver. When the dog saw them, he yipped and squirmed harder, and Betsy rushed forward to hand him over. Hailey took him in her arms, and Gulliver got the kiss that Mack had been hoping for.
“I found him in the back, in my rhododendron,” Betsy said. “He sure can whine. I thought someone had dumped a baby out there.”
“Oh my God, I can’t thank you enough,” said Hailey, even though all Betsy had done was walk across her driveway. “I’m going to get him inside to warm up, I can’t believe you found him. I owe you big time... we really have to have that coffee after Christmas. On me.”
“Definitely,” Betsy said, and Mack was left alone with her as Hailey went into the house.
“I’m really sorry for the commotion over here tonight,” he told her. “We uh, we had a break-in. They didn’t take anything, but still... I’d keep your house locked up. I think the police tried to knock to warn you or see if you heard anything, but—”
“We’ve been out most of the day.” Betsy frowned, and Mack couldn’t help but check for wrinkles; there were none. “Then I saw the police, but since they were parked on the corner, I assumed they were just trying to bust Allison again.”
“Allison?”
“Allison Murdoch—I think you met at the Christmas party? She’s the one with all the sons?”
Mack had no idea who Allison Murdoch was; he wanted to get back inside, back to stupid, stupid Gulliver, and to Hailey. He wanted to know if it was only fear that had thawed the ice between them or—
“They’re after Allison because she’s had two DUIs in the last couple of months,” Betsy was saying. “She’s not supposed to be driving, but I’ve seen her out tons of times. She’s going to kill one of those children of hers, or someone else’s. Honestly, you think you’ve moved into a nice neighborhood, and then—” She stopped as her eyes met Mack’s, and he got the distinct feeling that she considered him part of the “and then.”
I got my job back!He wanted to scream at her.I didn’t do anything wrong!
“Damn,” was all he said. “You guys be careful. And thanks so much again; the burglars left all the doors open, and Gulliver must have taken off. Some guard dog, eh?”
“Wasn’t your security system on?” Betsy asked him, and Mack hoped to God that she’d never manage to schedule that coffee with Hailey.
38.
Hailey
There were about a half dozen Christmas trees left in the lot, a scraggly lineup of the crooked and needle-less. The lush ten-footer Hailey had envisioned for the family room was not going to happen, which might have been a good thing. The firm had moved up payday in advance of the holidays, but her salary wasn’t going to go very far; they would still have all of January to get through. It was too late for Hailey to cancel the $150 garland she had ordered in August to put above the fireplace, and so during the chaos of the past few days, the pine roping with eucalyptus and white mistletoe berries had dried up in its shipping box next to the radiator, a neglected fire hazard too stiff with rigor mortis to put on the mantel.
Still, it was two days before Christmas, and she had the girls to think of. The four of them put on Santa hats and Christmas sweaters, and Hailey remembered to be grateful when Mack managed to spin the tree selection into something positive. There was a crooked, pathetic seven-footer, the ugliest of what remained, that had a half-moon shape sliced out of each side where the rope it was tied with had broken a lot of the branches. Only two thick ones remained, reaching out from the center of the tree like arms. Mack went with it: “Look at this poor tree,” he said to Mabel and Gigi. “Left behind because he was skinny and scraggly. But see how he has no needles? That means the ornaments will show up better. The tree’s a gem. I’m surprised it’s still here.”
